“She does, son. I saw how scared she was that night at Sean and Meara’s. I saw how she looked at you and I remember how you’ve both looked at each other for years. If you want her, if you love her and want a life with her, then you have to fight for it.” Donovan let his father pull him close so that his head was against his old man’s shoulder. He felt like a kid then, like the boy he was before his father had destroyed his faith. It felt natural, it felt awkward but ultimately, Donovan appreciated that his father held him. It was a relief, a release that lowered Donovan’s shoulders as his father kissed the top of his head. “Son, you have to deserve it.”
Darren and Michelle Marlow were thirty-four and thirty-two respectively. He was the CEO of a technology firm that handled the data security for the state. She was a CPA with company who boasted several record labels as just a few of their clients. They each drove a Mercedes, had both pledged to sister/brother houses at Vanderbilt and had met at a Vols game in the fall of 2003. Ten years later, they claimed to be happily married, owned a large cabin in Gatlinburg and lived in a 4500 square foot house in Franklin. They were friendly with several country music superstars and went to church, Protestant, every Sunday.
On the surface, they looked like normal, well-adjusted people. It was nine in the morning, a Thursday, and Layla and her parents sat across a long conference table from the CPA and her CEO husband smiling politely. Their questions were brief. They had learned a lot about Layla and the baby’s father, as the counselor had referred to Donovan throughout the rigorous interview process, even before this meeting.
“You’re planning a career in fashion?” Michelle asked Layla with a quiet, friendly voice and eyes wide and curious as though she was truly interested in where Layla landed after graduation.
“Yes.” She cleared her throat, hating how soft it sounded. “Yes. I’ve applied to Parsons for graduate school.”
“Our Layla is so artistic, always has been. My brother is a writer and his son graduated from one of those fancy California art schools. It’s in the blood, I think.” Layla’s mother was making small talk, she guessed, filling the quiet space around them as they waited for the counselor to return from giving them the time to “Get to know each other a little.”
Layla didn’t think the Marlows cared that her cousin worked at Pixar or that her uncle published a short story collection fifteen years ago. They wanted to know, she was sure, if Layla was healthy, if Donovan was. They wanted to know about family history and, most importantly of all, if Layla was serious about giving her baby to them.
“And, um,” the CEO started, looking at his wife as though what he’d ask was something they both wanted to know, “the father?”
“He’s a good man.” Layla slipped her gaze to her father when he said that, noticing how he held his shoulders back, kept his voice stern as though he defied anyone to disagree with him. “He’s very athletic, intelligent, driven, comes from a… well, we’ve been friends with his family for years. Good people. Community-oriented, very successful. Donovan will do well, I think, and as far as I know there aren’t any medical issues to be worried about.”
“That’s great to hear,” Michelle said, offering Layla another tender smile that she believed was genuine. “Do you mind me asking… why?” She waved her hand around the room and Layla didn’t need clarification. The woman wanted to know why Layla was there, offering her child up to people she’d only just met.
“I’m…” she looked to her parents, nodding when they smiled at her. “I’m not ready, I suppose and Donovan and I… well, that’s not anything serious.” Layla elbowed her father when he choked, knowing by that gruff tone that he disagreed with her. “Y’all can give her a life I can’t right now.”
“I see.” Darren held his wife’s hand, squeezing her fingers. “We can provide for her, certainly and we’ve thought about children for a while now. It just wasn’t in the cards for us and, Layla, we want you to know that what you’re doing, well,” Darren looked down, as though he needed to keep his emotions in check. “We couldn’t be happier about her. A little girl would be wonderful. Michelle is the only girl in her family and my side’s all boys. Our folks will be falling over each to have a granddaughter.” Then he straightened, pulled his hands away from his wife’s and onto the arms of the chair. His demeanor changed just a bit and the CEO became all business and dead serious. “We just want to make certain that this is something you want, Layla. We’re prepared to allow you to be involved in the baby’s life, if that’s what you want, but if you have any doubts, please tell us now. We’ve been disappointed before.”